


Questions

by Ponddipper



Category: Jeeves & Wooster, Jeeves - P. G. Wodehouse
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-09
Updated: 2017-09-09
Packaged: 2018-12-25 18:39:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12041886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ponddipper/pseuds/Ponddipper
Summary: Bertie is about to make the biggest speech of his life....





	Questions

**Questions**

 

He sobbed.  Not a loud wailing type sob, he isn’t the sort for that, but a quiet almost silent wrack of the body.  I felt it through the bed as much as I heard it.  Reg was bent forward, his head in his hands, body almost doubled over, small hiccoughing breaths escaping his lips.  I felt torn.  He had never cried in front of me before, probably not in front of anybody.  This wasn’t the stray joyous droplet or two that he had shed earlier.  This was the deep, heart wrenching sobs of a broken man.  It made me feel sick to see him like this, to know that I had brought him to this, but he had lied.  He’d kept secrets from me and I needed to know why.  So I asked.

     ‘Why didn’t you tell me about the money, Reg?  I just want to know the truth.  Why didn’t you tell me Aunt Agatha left you £50,000?’

The great man I had reduced to a babbling wreck turned his face slowly towards me and I flinched to see the splotchy tear stained cheeks and red swollen eyes I had caused.

     ‘Angela told me.’ I said.

*******

Dash it! I’ve done it again, haven’t I?  Started with the explosion without first setting up the fireworks as it were?  One of my many bad habits that, beginning _in media res,_ but certainly not my worst.  That, I am ashamed to say, is how I so often jump into a sitch without first engaging the thinking apparatus.  Not like Jeeves, who always gathers his intel _before_ he makes his move.  You’d think after all these years I would have learnt something from the fellow.

The tale I am about to tell concerns a rather painful episode in the life of Bertram and I don’t like to think about it too much.  Suffix? Suffrage?  Suffice!  That’s the one.  _Suffice_ to say I have now learnt my lesson and henceforth will gather the facts before deciding what to believe.

Whether it was divine intervention, ghostly aid from beyond, or Jeeves’ sensible whatsit eventually rubbing off on me I am not certain but I am grateful to whatever it was that did whatever it did to save the last of the Woosters from himself.

  Herein lies the tale of how I, Bertram Wilberforce Wooster almost made the very worst mistake of my life.

 

_28 th July 1967_

_Outside the dining room at Brinkley Hall._

I was stood in the corridor, my heart bashing about in my chest, my palms clammier than one of Gussies newts’.  There was a pain between my eyes that hadn’t been there ten minutes ago when I came down and if my legs hadn’t turned to jelly I would have run back up to my room and locked the door, refusing to come out until the new year.

     You see I was about to make a speech.  Quite an important one.  In fact it was _the_ most important speech I would ever make and to say I was nervous was an understatement.

     My dear Cousin Angela was fussing over me, straightening my black tie and brushing imaginary dust from my dinner jacket _,_ casting a critical eye over my appearance to ensure I looked my best.  Being a motherly sort I suppose she couldn’t help herself but I tell you, it felt dashed odd to have her manhandle me so.  Yes she was family but it didn’t feel right to have anyone straighten the t. or brush off the old D.J who wasn’t my valet, Jeeves.  Just the thought of my long serving manservant is enough to send deliciously warm wobbles through my tum but at the moment such w.w were not helping my delicate state.  I thought I was going to be sick.

     ‘Are you ready, Bertie?’ Angela asked as she stepped back apparently satisfied with her work.

I looked at my pale face in the mirror-like shine of my sensible black lace ups, while trying not to give in to the strong temptation to faint. At least then this would all be over. Jeeves had cleaned these shoes yesterday.  I had been absorbed in watching him for a full half hour as he rubbed and buffed the leather with brush and cloth at the kitchen table.  I loved watching him at his work, every task done with the upmost care and attention.

Angela took my chin between her thumb and forefinger, pulling it up to stare into my face.  It was jolly unnerving to meet her piercing green peepers and I quickly looked away.

‘Relax, Bertie.  It’ll be fine.’ She said.

How could she be so certain?  It was beyond me.

‘How can you be so certain?’ I said and she fixed me with a glare her own mother would have been proud of.

‘Sorry old thing.’ I said with a shrug. ‘Big speeches always make me a tad nervy and well, this is a doozy of one, what?’

Angela smiled at me and I could see she understood that I had an attack of the nerves.  She was only a couple of years younger than me and was more a sister than my own sister, if you see what I mean.  I could never have married her, even had I been so inclined.

I sighed again, balling my fists and releasing them as I tried to get myself under control. 

     ‘I know your nervous, Bertie.’ My Cousin said in kind reply. ‘But just remember what you want to say and it’ll be over in no time.’

Remember? I’d been practicing for weeks, months even, knowing this moment was coming. But now it was finally here it seemed all too much for the last of the Wooster’s.  I knew the words I wanted to say, off by heart and inside out, yet now the time had arrived to utter them I was terrified I was about to make a huge mistake.

     ‘Angela?’ I said, my lower lip trembling more than I care to admit.  ‘Am… am I about to make a huge mistake?’

To elaborate a little further I was about to put my heart on the line and declare my innermost whatsits to the man I had loved since, well forever.  This might not seem so strange to you more modern sorts, but at the time of this tale, such sorts of action had been liable to end up with both coves in chokey for two years breaking rocks, and upon release having to change their names and flee to more enlightened parts of the world.  Not only did I have this to worry about but I had always felt less than equal to my beloved.  He is a marvel, a paragon amongst his kind and even after all these years I could not fathom why he stayed with a chump like B.W.Wooster.  Believe me, I am grateful for every day he has spent by my side, but I still didn’t know how or why he put up with me.

 

I’d confided my scheme to my cousin a few days ago, as I needed help to put the final touches of my great plan in place.  She’d squealed like a nee Bassett with delight at the whole idea, throwing herself at things like a beazel preparing for a wedding. That is to say with gusto.

‘A mistake? Don’t be daft, Bertie!’ She said throwing her arms around me in a quite tight hug.  So tight I could barely breathe and I was sure my jacket would get creased.  Jeeves would not like that.

‘You have been waiting for this day your whole life, Bertie.  Finally, those fatheads in Whitehall have realised that to be in love is not a crime so, you go out there and you make Jeeves proud of you!’

That brought the moistness to the old baby blues. There were few in my life who were truly proud of Bertram, so the thought that my wonderful Valet might be among them had me reaching for my handkerchief.

‘Oh Bertie.  What’s wrong?’  Angela cupped my cheek in her hands, her visage full of concern.

‘I’m scared.’  I sniffed, in quite an unmanly way I’m sure, as I pinched the top of my nose to stop my eyes watering.

 ‘What if he …’ I couldn’t get the words out, too afraid to voice my fears lest they come true.

     ‘Bertram Wilberforce Wooster!’ Angela snapped, sounding scarily like my Aunt Agatha as she folded her arms in front of her and leant back to give me a stern look.

‘You have _not_ spent the last ten years battling prejudice, scorn, and ignorance to back out now!’

     ‘You sound just like Aunt Agatha.’ I said.

Angela froze for a second then began to laugh, her eyes creasing at the edges with her smile.

     ‘Oh, Bertie.  You are a wag.’

I hoped the smile I gave in return was more smile and less the strained grimace it felt like.

At that moment Tuppy’s head appeared around the dining room door, quickly followed by the rest of him.  Thankfully the two were still attached, though the way the man carried on sometimes it was a wonder they hadn’t parted company before.

     ‘You ready old sport?’  He said in his usual cheerful manner.

     ‘No,’ I sighed. ‘But I’ll do it.’

Angela gave me another hug and Tuppy patted my shoulder.

     ‘Good Luck Bertie.’ He said. ‘Just remember we’re all on your side.’

I nodded, grateful for their support and the pair disappeared into the room while I took a final moment to prepare myself before I entered the lions den.

     _Here goes nothing,_ I thought as I heard the door swish shut behind me.

 

The dining room was hung here and there with tasteful groups of balloons in red and white, while the table at one end positively groaned under the weight of food upon it, all neatly displayed on silver salvers having been prepared by Anatole’s protégé Marceau. 

There were small groups of people dotted here and there, chatting and giving the room a sort of homely buzz.  I’d never realised quite how big the dining room at Brinkley Hall is until we moved the table up against the wall and all the chairs to the outside edges. I made sure that Jeeves was out of the house while I helped some of the Ganymede lads with the hefting of furniture, knowing he would complain that it was no job for a gentleman or some such rot.  He still has a somewhat old fashioned idea of what is _proper_ behaviour for me but in these enlightened times there are a lot less staff to do things than when Aunt Dahlia stalked these corridors.  And to be honest, I preferred it that way.  Less interruptions, if you get my meaning.

The dining room wasn’t as big as the ballroom at Steeple Bumpleigh but it was big enough, much bigger than the sitting room at my old flat in the metrop, a place that had many happy memories for me.  I shivered though as I thought back to my last night at Berkeley Mansions, a place I hadn’t lived for over twenty five years.  Not since a German bomb took out one whole side of the building, leaving all ones intimate possessions scattered about the rubble heap, open to being gawked at by any passers-by.  Thankfully no-one was killed in the flats that night, either having escaped to the countryside for the duration or like my man and I, sheltering in the basement, waiting for the all clear to sound.  Jeeves, at the time serving as a batman to some Captain or other in the Army, had been home on leave for a few days and I was dashed grateful he was there when I saw the wreckage the following morning.  I would never have gotten through everything all on my own.

I felt a tug at my elbow which brought me back from my remi-whatsits.  Young Leo Abse, the MP for some place in the Welsh hills stood before me with a glass of Champagne which he handed over. 

     ‘You look like you could use this, Bertie.’  He said in his usual quiet but commanding voice, a small smile playing about his lips.

     ‘Sorry Leo, old boy.  Lost in my memories for a moment.’  I said smiling back, taking a grateful sip of the fizz to steady my nerves. 

I didn’t want to get tipsy, well not yet anyway.  I had important business to attend to and I needed a clear head to do it, though one of Jeeves’ magic mixtures would be welcome right about now.

     ‘She signed the papers yesterday afternoon.  It’s official.  Congratulations.’  The MP stated quietly shaking my hand. 

I found I had to steady myself on his arm as I felt a huge weight lift from my shoulders, a weight I’d carried for more than forty years.  I had known this moment was coming but now it was really here the relief was immense, the fear considerably diminished.  It took me several moments to catch my breath again.

     ‘Thank you Leo.’  I said, my hand on his arm giving it a squeeze as I looked him straight in the eye. ‘For everything…’

     ‘Don’t mention it.’ He said patting my shoulder and then he biffed off to talk to a small group who stood by the window, leaving me alone to gather myself again. There was nothing to stop me now.

 

The clock on the mantelpiece struck eight and I knew the hour had come to address the crowd.

     _Now or never_ , I thought as I made my way up to the table and banged on it with an antique silver serving spoon.  Uncle Tom would have turned in his grave to see me act so recklessly with his collection.

     ‘Erm, Hello?  Can I have your attention please?’  I hated how my voice came out all squeaky and high, not unlike a mouse who’d stubbed its toe on the clock.  I coughed and tried again.  ‘Er, Hello?’

Suddenly the dinner gong boomed out and I jumped.  The room fell deathly silent as the air vibrated around us.

     ‘Sorry!’ called Tuppy a tad sheepishly from by the door, his cheeks turning slightly pink as all eyes turned to him.  ‘Just seemed a good er, well, um..yes quite.’ 

     ‘Thank you, Tuppy.’  I said on a sort of breathy laugh.  And then all eyes were on me.

 

There was quite a crowd gathered and, as I looked out across a sea of familiar faces, it gladdened my heart to see them; Biffy and Mabel, Bingo and Rosie, Angela and Tuppy of course, Leo, Gussie, John and Eric from the Ganymede.  Even old Rocky Todd had prised himself from the backwoods of the States to be here, alongside his latest beau, a quite handsome blonde called Geoff.  In all there were about twenty or so friends and relations here.  And they were all looking at me, waiting on my every word.

My mouth was as dry as the Sahara in summertime and I took a quick sip of my drink, forcing it down and making myself breathe.

     _Get on with it, blot!_ I could almost hear Aunt Dahlia’s voice in my ear and I wondered for a moment if she was haunting the walls of her old home.  I hoped she would be happy with what I was about to do.  Somehow I thought she might be.

     ‘Erm, friends, relations and er hangers-on.’ I said.  The crowd chuckled politely. ‘Er, I want to um, thank you all for ah, ankling along to this little get-together to erm, help celebrate some er decidedly whatsit um…’

Panic set in.  The room was spinning and I was starting to shake. My palms felt clammy again as I struggled to get air past my tight collar and into the lungs.  I had done this before, given speeches and all that, even big ones in the House of Lords, being now known to some as Lord Yaxley, but Jeeves had always helped to prepare what I said.  He would check that my words made sense and I got my point across in an intelligent way.  This time it was just me, on my own and I was sure I was going to find a way to mess it all up, ending up in the soup again. I shut my eyes for a moment, picturing Jeeves’ calm and serene face, when it came back to me in a flash.  Jeeves told me, just before my first speech in the house, that when addressing a crowd, the best way to avoid getting tongue tied is to pick out one person in said c. and talk as if they were the only person there.  I learnt quite quickly in our acquaintance that Jeeves always knew what he was about, and I now followed his advice most thoroughly. 

So I sought out one particular face towards the back of the crowd, my gaze settling on the pair of perfect sapphire blue peepers that held the slightest crinkles of age at the edges, and spoke directly to them.

‘Ahem, sorry.  Yes.  Thank you all for coming tonight to help celebrate some important milestones in the life of our favourite valet.  I speak of course of the wonderful Jeeves.’

There was a cheer and applause around me, but I saw only the slight amusement in his eyes as I kept my gaze on him.  Taking a steadying breath I carried on.

     ‘As you all know, earlier this year Jeeves chalked up forty years in my employ.  In that time he has saved me from outraged aunts, ill-conceived schemes, of mine and others making, innumerable engagements, as well as fifty-seven other varieties or more of soup.  How he has put up with me for so long is a mystery I cannot begin to fathom, but I am eternally grateful that he has.’  Another chuckle rippled through the crowd.

     ‘What you may not be aware of, and please don’t hate me for this Jeeves, is that today, my long suffering valet celebrates sixty-five years of existence upon this earth.  An even more impressive feat when you consider how many of those have been in association with your truly.’ 

There was another round of applause and cheers for Jeeves and I could see the pinkish flush to his cheeks as he became the crowds centre of attention, a place he really hates to be.

     ‘I know you all think that is why I have staged this little soiree tonight but I am afraid that I have rather led you up the garden path. No, our congregation is for a far more important purpose.  Today is in fact a very particular anniversary for Jeeves and I.’ I saw looks of confusion pass around the crowd and I swallowed hard.  There was no going back now.

     ‘Today it is forty years to the day; indeed to the very moment that I first realised I had fallen _in_ _love_ with my valet.’

There was an audible gasp as everyone drew breath at the same time.  My gaze, fixed firmly on the man I loved, only saw his eyes widen a touch in alarm.  For Jeeves this was akin to total panic.

     ‘As of midnight last night, or is it this morning?  Oh well never mind.  As of 00:01 in the ack emma on 28th July 1967 I am free, at liberty, and unashamed to say that I love my valet Jeeves, better known to me as Reg, and I have done for forty years.  We are as one and have been for the last four decades.  We are as in love as any cove and beazel and likely a darn sight happier than either.’  Again there was a low chuckle and murmurs of agreement at my comment.

I cast my eyes about the room, seeing the looks of shock and recognition dawning on the faces gathered.  These people were those we both held so dear, and they all sort of knew about Reg and me and the love that dare not speak its name but it was never openly mentioned so I suppose they couldn’t be sure.  Until now….

Returning my eyes to my beloved Valet, I locked onto his gaze and held on tight, as I would his hand in a thunderstorm.  I would need all my nerve for the next bit.

     ‘Reggie.  You have made me so incredibly happy in the past forty years but until now I have been unable to tell the world just how amazingly wonderful you truly are.  How much strength I gain from your being at my side, how you know just what to do to help me out of the soup or how you comfort me when I am sad. And how you give the most excellent hugs.  If you or I had been born a woman I would have dragged you up the aisle long ago.

     But here, now, where I am at last free to declare my feelings without fear of being thrown in jail for it, I want to make my vows to you.  Before the eyes of all those we hold dear.’

A round of hearty applause erupted about us and Reg was ushered to the front to stand next to me.  I could see how embarrassed he was – the poor man was almost crimson, but I saw love in his eyes too. 

As soon as he was stood in front of me I dropped to one knee, but he tugged on my arm to stop me actually touching the carpet.

     ‘Please, sir! You will crease your trousers.’ 

His quiet voice was strained with emotion, a state in which you will rarely see him.  I know of only two other occasions when such lapses occurred – once after the bombing raid that could so easily have taken us both to the forever beyond, the other when he received notice that his Uncle Charlie had died.

I stood back up and, taking both his hands in mine, I looked him square in the eye, having to tilt my head back a touch as he is slightly taller than I.

     ‘My dearest Reggie.  You have seen me for better and at my worst.  You have loved me and cherished me far beyond that which I deserve.’ He began to protest but I shook my head.

     ‘Please, let me finish?’

  He nodded and I drew a deep breath before I continued.

     ‘You have cherished me beyond that which I deserve.  You have obeyed my wishes despite your misgivings, although not in the sartorial arena I must add, and you have always been there to haul me out of whatever mess I get myself or others into.

     You have seen me through sickness and kept me in good health, and I hope you know that my life is richer for having you in it, infinitely poorer when we are apart.’

His eyes were soft and dewy, catching my breath in my throat and as I gazed at my beloved I actually felt my heart swell.  I took another deep breath, tightened my grip on his hands turning my knuckles white and threw myself at the last and most important part of my speech with a gusto that the ancestors who fought at Agincourt would, I hope, be proud of.

     ‘I love you Reggie.  All that I am I give to you, all that I own I share.  All that I do I honour you, with all of my heart I care.’

My own tears were threatening to flow like a waterfall down my cheeks in the hushed silence of the room.  _Just hold on Wooster, hold on,_ I thought.  Reg’s own eyes looked a touch more watery too.

     ‘Reginald Arthur Jeeves.’ He cringed at the use of his full name but I ploughed on. ‘Will you do me the honour of hitching yourself to the Wooster corpus for now and eternity, old thing?’ My voice cracked with the final word.

I don’t think anyone breathed.  I certainly didn’t. I never actually heard the man’s reply, the blood thundering so loudly in my ears. But I saw his lips form the words ‘I will’ as all the air left my lings in a rush.  A single tear escaped his eye and I used my thumb to wipe it away as his mouth broke into a rare but always beautiful smile.

Unfortunately, at the same moment, there was a deafening cheer around me and I was slapped so hard on the back I almost poked the poor man’s eye out with my t.  In fact I fell so hard onto Jeeves, and he was clearly not expecting to suddenly find himself needing to support my weight as well as his own, that he took a half step backwards and very nearly ended up sitting _in_ his birthday cake that was positioned on the table behind him.

But my Reg is a man who can, in any situation and he stayed any further movement so the cake was saved.  I embraced him rather tightly, smooshing my lips into his as I received enough slaps on my back to leave me bruised for days but I didn’t care.  Reg had said he would and I was the happiest man in the entire universe.  Nothing on heaven or earth could spoil this moment.

 

Of course, it is the nature of my life that when I am certain of eternal happiness something comes along to kick me in the behind.

‘Wooster!’ 

The deep growl froze my insides and utterly shattered my joy in an instant.  The cheers stopped so abruptly I thought I’d gone deaf and I felt Reg tense the same moment I did.  He tightened his grip on me but I squeezed him once in reassurance, before I slipped out from his arms and turned to face the unwelcome intruder. 

     ‘Cheesewright.’ I said coldly, inclining my head by way of acknowledgement.  I had not invited him, and I doubt Reg had sent word,but I was too polite to simply throw him out.  Unless he made trouble of course.

     The thing is see, the law that passed overnight decriminalised relations between coves _in private_ (ie in their own homes), which is why I had chosen to hold the party here at Brinkley, but it was a bit greyish as to whether embracing ones true love and declaring same in front of a group of guests counted as ‘in private’.

     Albion A. Bentwhistle, a young but talented Q.C who had helped Leo and I draft our white paper thought it _should_ be okay as this _was_ a private party at my home, in that no general public were allowed, but then Cheesewright was an uninvited guest so who knew?  I supposed we would all find out soon enough.

     ‘Sir, if I may..’ Began Reg, making to stand in front of me, but I raised my hand and he paused, immediately returning to his position as my trusted valet and following the masters wishes.

     ‘No.  Let the man speak.’  I said quietly.

I was surprised how level I sounded being as my insides were churning like the Bay of Biscay in December.  I refused to be bowed by him.  He had opposed the likes of Leo and I at every turn and I would not let him ruin my success.  Or my long awaited happiness.

     ‘Well?’ I said to Stilton, raising my eyebrow and showing my annoyance at his presence by folding my arms across my chest.  For once in my life why couldn’t things go to plan?

The man’s ruddy face seemed to contort into what might possibly have been a pained grimace, a sneer or some sort of smile but I could not tell you which it was.  It wasn’t a pleasant sight however.

The air seemed to almost fizz with the tension in the room.  Everyone seemed to be holding their breath, waiting to see what would happen.  By Jove it was probably more gripping than that Coronation whatsit on TV.  At least that was how Reg described it to me later.

     ‘I..I was wrong about you Wooster.’  Stilton sounded surprised by his revelation, but not as surprised as I was to hear it.  ‘You never did have intentions towards my Florence did you?  I..apologize.’

And then he held out his hand for me to shake!

Well, I was stunned, shocked, floored by the announcement.  For several moments I am sure time stopped still and I stared like a goldfish at him.

Then I thought about all the times this man had threatened me, said rude and hurtful things about me, of all the times he had caused me to fall into the broth.  I thought about all the times I had been unwillingly affianced to the woman who was now, thankfully, his wife and how the man had been a scourge on the life of this Wooster for nearly sixty years.  But it occurred to me that I had something he did not and never would.  I had the undying, eternal love of my darling Reg and now I was free to declare same to all who cared to ask.

     So I was the bigger man and I shook his meaty paw, at last unafraid he might ruin me and the man I adored.

     ‘Thank you Stilton.’ I said releasing his hand.

     ‘Good luck to you Bertie.  And you too Jeeves.’  He said nodding at the slightly taller man behind me, before turning on his heel and leaving the room.

 

I have to admit I did sort of crumble into Reg’s arms as the door swung shut behind Stilton. And, as ever, my man knew just what I needed even if I didn’t.  Helping me to sit in a nearby chair he disappeared for but a moment then returned with a glass of something fortified which I gulped down greedily.

     ‘Thank you.’ I said as he took the empty glass from my hand.  Reg just smiled his quarter inch smile, back to being the paragon valet once more.

 

A short while later I was restored to my usual happy self. Someone wound up the old gramophone and the opening bars of a familiar tune caught my ear. 

     ‘Reggie, my love?  May I have this dance?’ I grinned up at him and the love I saw reflected back at me could have lifted the very darkest of clouds from the sky.

As Nat King Cole’s soft tone sang of the one he found unforgettable, I was wrapped in the arms of my own unforgettable one.  You may not know this dear reader, but my dear Reggie is an excellent dancer.  This in itself may not be quite so surprising, considering how bally talented the man is at just about everything he does, but to be able to waltz around with him in front of other people? Well it made this Wooster’s year. 

     ‘I love you, Reggie.’ I mumbled as I rested my head against his broad chest, letting him sway and guide me around the room.

     ‘I love you too, Bertram.’ He replied with a quick kiss to my cheek. 

Yes, this was the very best year yet for B.W.Wooster.

 

*******

‘Aunt A would be proud of you, you know.’

It was about an hour later and I was currently dancing with my Cousin Angela when her remark caught me somewhat off guard.

     ‘Eh?’

     ‘Aunt Agatha.  She’d be proud of you for this.’ Angela waved her hand around her head to indicate the room in general.

I’m afraid, dear reader that I snorted at this suggestion in a most ungentlemanly fashion.  It was pretty-party prepostum, preposta.  Well, I’m not quite sure what the word was, and Reg was not immediately at hand to ask, dancing as he was with his niece, but let me tell you, the whole idea of my nephew-devouring Aunt Agatha being proud of _me_ was loonier than most of the guests at the Sir Roderick Glossop home for the mentally unwell!

I sniffed the air between us quite deliberately.

     ‘You must be tighter than I thought, dear Cousin. You know full well that Aunt Agatha thought me an unwelcome burden on the human race and she couldn’t abide Jeeves.  She was always trying to get rid of him!’

I felt a familiar well of anger in my chest at that, even now, after all these years.  The man had never done her any ill.  Well not that much.  Not as much as she had sent in my direction anyway.

     ‘It was all an act Bertie.  Surely you knew that?’

     ‘No! It couldn’t have been.’ I said.  ‘If it _was_ just an act she should have been on the stage. Aunt Agatha disliked me and had even less regard for Jeeves.’  I stated with certainty.

Despite our forty years together I often still called him by his surname when speaking to others.  To start with it had been for our safety, now it was just habit.

Angela sighed at me as only a mother can; indulgently, as if I were a small child trying to understand why my rubber duck didn’t talk back to me.

We stopped dancing and Angela looked at me with a mix of pity and despair at my innocence.

     ‘Bertie, our dear Aunt saw how much you and Jeeves meant to each other. Anyone who _really_ knew you did.  Her actions were to shield you.’

I wrinkled my nose at this.  The woman wouldn’t have shielded me with her lace hanky from a firing squad.

     ‘To shield _both_ of you from suspicion.  If she kicked up enough dust you could hide in the cloud until people looked elsewhere.’

     ‘But…but she was always flinging girls at me!’ I whined, sounding not unlike said s.c.

     ‘Knowing Jeeves would get you out of it again.  She would never have forced you to marry.’

     ‘Yes she would!’ I argued, still sounding like the s.c.  ‘The woman was raving mad.  She left her fortune to a dog!’ I said.  I had her there.  Or so I thought.

Angela sighed patiently again.  ‘Yes.  And who inherited from Mackintosh?  Hmm?’ 

     ‘Well,’ I said a bit confused. ‘Erm, I don’t know.  I rather think I saw him giving Bartholomew a more than brotherly eye once or twice, or Mrs Dalstons poodle?’

Angela burst out laughing and it took her a few moments to control herself again.

     ‘Sorry, I’m sorry.’  She wheezed.  Taking a deep breath she pulled me over to sit in a couple of chairs in the corner.  ‘Oh Bertie you are funny.’  She wiped at her watering eyes.

     ‘It was Jeeves!  Jeeves got the money. Aunt Agatha left him a fortune when Mackintosh died.’

This was news to me.

‘But why?’

     ‘So that he wouldn’t leave you, so he wouldn’t feel anything less than equal to you.  At least that’s what the will said.’

I sort of fell back into the chair, all the blood draining from my head to my feet.

     ‘But…but…’ I was flabbergasted.  ‘He never said…’

I was shocked, stunned and more than a touch hurt by this revelation.  Not so much that my dragon of an aunt would leave her worldly to a man she did not, or at least appeared not to care for, but more that Reg had kept this inheritance from me.  And for so long.  In fact it made my earlier doubts about my beloved resurface quite sharply.

Angela must have seen something in my face as she grabbed both my hands in hers.

     ‘Bertie, think about it.  Jeeves is Jeeves.  He wouldn’t say anything would he?  It wouldn’t be proper to wake you up one morning and say, “good news, Sir I’ve just landed some of your Aunts fortune because she didn’t want me to leave you. Oh, and here’s your tea.”  Not that he would.  Leave you I mean.  Even without a penny to his name he would never have left.  He loves you as much, if not more than you love him.’

 

I was now more confused than ever.  Every other time something like this happened I would ring for Jeeves and he would carefully explain the whole sitch to me.  But this time _he_ was part of the confusion and I have to admit it was quite an unsettling feeling, almost lonely, to face this thing alone.  I looked up and saw that the man in question was still dancing with his niece, Mabel and it tore at me to see him look so calm, so utterly without a care.  It was twenty years or more since my Aunt had died and he had never uttered a word.  He had kept this secret from me for two decades and I began to wonder just what else the paragon of valets had hidden in that bulging brain of his.

     Please do not think I cared about the money.  I have more than enough oof to see me and my man through several lifetimes in comfort, but the fact was that Reg had kept my Aunts request secret, leading my to wonder if he really did love me, or if he was just acting under his feudal spirit and following her wishes.  A sudden desperate thought came to me.  Had Jeeves ever really loved me?

The room felt suffocating and loud and I just needed to get out of there.  I stood up, almost knocking Angela over in my haste.

     ‘Bertie?  Are you okay?’  She looked concerned and I tried to conceal just how desperate I felt.

     ‘Um yes, well er no.  I’ve got a headache.  Don’t worry I’m er just going for a lie down.  I’ll be fine.  Stay here and enjoy the party.’

I kissed her goodnight and fled to the one place I always had for sanctuary.

*******

The knock on the door came about half an hour after I’d fled.  I knew it would but I remained as silent as I could in the darkness hoping he would go away.  But of course, he didn’t.  That’s the trouble with Jeeves, he just _knows_. (I hadn’t realised I’d switched back to using his surname again.)

Jeeves knows if I am awake or asleep.  He knows if I am upset, or angry or scared, and he will not let it drop until he has gotten to the bottom of things and made them right again.  It was one of the things I loved about him, but right now I hated him for it too.

He came in without me giving him permission to and he placed a cup of tea on the bedside table before turning on the lamp.  He said nothing and just sat on the bed, waiting for me to speak.  I was determined to outwait him, but after several minutes of tense silence, I caved as I always do.

     ‘Go back to the party Reg.’

He did not move.

     ‘Reg, go!  You’re missing your birthday party.’

     ‘I thought it was a double celebration.  I _thought_ there was an engagement.’

He had me there.  We had gotten engaged, sort of.  But how could I think of, _dream_ of marrying him when he had kept secrets from me?  How could I trust him now that I knew he had lied to me?

     ‘Perhaps it was a mistake.  It’s happened before.  I’ve never been good at holding on to my fiancées.’ I meant my words to sting.

Through the mattress, I felt his body stiffen slightly and knew how hurt he would feel.  But I was angry and I didn’t care that he hurt.  I was hurting too.  He had lied to me.  Not just a little, no-the-yellow-and-green-plaid-tie-didn’t-make-it-out-of-the-washing-machine-type lie, but a whopping great big I-inherited-a-fortune-and-didn’t-bother-to-tell-you type lie.

     ‘What are you saying?’ 

His voice was so calm, so flat, like he was telling me the time or the weather.  It either meant he didn’t care or was on the verge of breaking apart.  But I was so angry I didn’t care which.  Looking back I wish I’d kept quiet, wish I’d waited until I was calmer before I spoke to him.  But as I said at the start I was never one to pause and think first.  So I leapt straight in with both feet and was soon up to my knees in consumee.

     ‘I’m saying, I do not wish to marry you Jeeves.  Call it temporary insanity, mental negligence or what you will but I am afraid it was all a mistake on my part.  I believe I have changed my mind.’  I didn’t even say I was sorry.

All this time I had been facing away from him, my eyes fixed on the wall with the little pictures of rabbits frolicking gaily across a meadow.  My eyes were burning with unshed tears and every bit of me ached to curl up in a ball and cry until I was a dried up husk upon the floor.  But somewhere deep down underneath my hurt and anger I must have still kept a flickering ember of something for my Reg, as the noise I heard come from him then had me turning slowly over in his direction.

He sobbed.  Not a loud wailing type sob, he isn’t the sort for such demonstrative noises, but a quiet almost silent convulsing of the body.  I felt it through the bed as much as I heard it.  Reg was bent forward; his head in his hands, almost doubled over, small hiccoughing breaths escaping his lips, making him bounce ever so slightly on the springy mattress.

I felt torn.  He had never cried in front of me before, probably not in front of anybody.  This wasn’t the stray droplet or two that he had shed earlier through joy.  This was the deep, heart wrenching sobbing of a heart broken man.  It made me feel sick to see him like this, but he had lied.  He’d kept secrets and I needed to know why.  So I asked.

‘Why didn’t you tell me about the money, Reg?  I just want to know the truth.  Why didn’t you tell me Aunt Agatha left you £50,000?’

The great man I had reduced to a babbling wreck turned his face towards me and I flinched to see the splotchy tear stained cheeks and red swollen eyes my words had caused.

     ‘Angela told me.’ I said.

He sighed and straightened up slowly, wiping his face with the back of his hand.  After several moments gathering himself, he began to speak, his voice quiet and soft but I was all ears.  I _had_ to know.

     ‘She made me promise not to tell you.  I was sworn to secrecy.’ He sounded so ashamed of his actions.

     ‘Just tell me what happened.’ I said, my own voice quiet in the still room.

He dragged in a ragged breath, fixing his eyes on the far wall and began to tell me all.   

‘It wasn’t long after the bombing raid in 1942 when the flat was destroyed.  I was due to return to duty the day after but I couldn’t leave you.  Not like that.  I needed to make sure you were safe.  So I telephoned my Captain, and told him that my mother’s home had been destroyed. That she had lost everything.  He was most understanding and gave me a few extra days leave to help sort things out.  He arranged to meet me at his own mother’s house in Wiltshire three days later.’

I remembered it well.  I was sure that he should have gone back to the army the day after the bomb fell but he assured me I was wrong and that he had two extra days.  I was in such shock that I didn’t think to question it.  Until now.

     ‘Well, once we had gathered what we could, and installed you here at the Hall, I returned to my billet and made my way to Wiltshire.  Imagine my surprise on arriving when I found that Mrs Gregson was also visiting.  Apparently Captain Carson’s mother and your Aunt had been at school together and were old friends.’

     Well, I say!  It must have been quite a shock for him, not knowing that my fire-breathing Aunt was ensconced in the country with his boss’ Mother.

     ‘I carried out my duties to the best of my ability but I felt that Mrs Gregson was constantly watching me, observing my manner and methods.  My suspicion turned out to be correct when she intercepted me before dinner the day after I arrived.’

     ‘What did she want?’  I asked, too caught up in the tale to remember that I was mad at him for not telling me this before.

     ‘She asked me to step into the drawing room, which was empty.  She sat in a chair and I stood, as I should do in the presence of my better.’

Reg has always had this feudal spirit thingy where anyone who is not in service, or employed in other manual work, is somehow better than he and that he should defer to them.  I think its utter rot but he cannot be swayed.  It is the code of the Jeeves’ I suppose.

     ‘Go on.’

     ‘Thank you.  I asked Mrs Gregson how I might be of assistance and she asked me why I served you differently to the Captain.  I of course denied any such undertaking but she was insistent.  I explained that I was not conscious of any such difference in my manner but she informed me that I took much greater care of you than Captain Carson.  I am afraid that my mask may have slipped a little in light of recent events and I told her that you required much more looking after than the Captain.  At that point your Aunt told me she knew that I had lied about my leave.’

     ‘Good God!’  I whispered, suddenly aware of just what a risk he had taken for me all those years ago.  ‘If anyone else had found out you could have been thrown in jail.’

     ‘Quite.’ He said, suddenly looking every one of his sixty five years.  ‘But I did not believe that to be her intention in informing me of her knowledge.  In fact, she seemed to be considering something quite deeply.  I was dismissed and I returned to the dining room to help with the preparations as per normal.’

     ‘But… that still doesn’t explain the money Reg.  Why did she leave you such a lot?’

     ‘I am coming to that, Bertram.’  He said turning to me.  ‘It wasn’t until several months later that I next made Mrs Gregson’s acquaintance.  It was under this very roof on one of my leaves.  Again I was asked to confer with her in private.  By this time your Aunt was quite unwell and confined to her wheelchair for much of the day.  We took a turn about the grounds as it was such a lovely spring day.  Once we reached the rose garden she asked me to stop by the stone bench and take a seat.’

I noticed that his eyes had become glazed as he stared at the wall, as if he could see back through time to that day in the rose garden.

     ‘I believe your Aunt knew she had not long left to live.  She told me how she and her sister had taken you in when your parents passed on, how she had been so reminded of her brother when she saw you, and how painful it was for her.  I believe this is why she was always so harsh with you.  Not because she did not care, but because it was too painful for her to be reminded of her loss.’

Things were beginning to make sense.  I had always felt a strange kind of distance between my Aunt Agatha and I.  Perhaps what Reg said was true.  He was well versed in the psychology of the individual and he was quite a good judge of character too.  I eagerly awaited his next words.

     ‘We had been sitting for some minutes when Mrs Gregson asked me to do one thing for her.  She asked me to promise I would look after you when she was gone.  I had to promise to make sure you were happy, whatever that might take. I, of course, promised on my life without hesitation.  She seemed pleased with my response.

I knew nothing of the money until approximately a year and a half later when the dog Mackintosh also passed on.  It stated in your Aunts will apparently that I was to receive £50,000 from the dog because I was a good and calming influence on you, and the money was to ensure I stayed in your employ.’

     Tears had begun to leak down his face again, as well as my own.

     ‘She made me promise not to tell you.’  Reg said hanging his head again as he sobbed.

My heart was aching to comfort him but there were still answers I needed to hear and so far my lack of contact was getting me what I wanted so I continued to hold off.

‘So what happened to it?’  I knew it was insensitive to ask but my curiosity got the better of me.  It often does.

     ‘The solicitors opened an account in my name with the bank.  I get a letter each year but I never open them.’

‘Please Reggie.  Just tell me the truth.  Did..did you only stay because of the money?’

 

     ‘NO!’ He leapt up and spun to face me, eyes dark, his body shaking with rage.  ‘Is that what you think?  Is that really how little you trust me?’

 

     ‘No!  Of course not!  I just…it’s hard to take in.’  I too was shaking now as I stood in front of him.

 

     ‘But you believe I only stayed with you because your Aunt asked me to?  You believe me so cold hearted as to _lie_ to you like that?  All that talk of love and devotion earlier?  Did you mean it or was it just to make a fool out of me?’

 

We’d both begun to raise our voices – a measure of how deeply I’d hurt my man that he had raised his by even a decibel.

 

     ‘Of course I meant it!  I _love_ you.  I have _always_ loved you.  I just want to know the truth.’

 

Jeeves sighed running his shaking hand through his hair, making it stand up in little tufts.  When he spoke again his voice was back to a normal volume, though his tone was full of hurt.

 

     ‘So, you want the truth?  _This_ is the truth.  I love you, Bertram.  I have always loved you.  I had loved you and stayed with you for twenty years, _twenty years_ Bertram, _before_ your Aunt left me any money.  Money I have never touched because it turns my stomach to think that anyone, even your fearsome Aunt could believe that mere money would ever mean more to me than you, that any amount of money could ever make me want to part from you.  I could believe that she might doubt my intentions, could believe that others might question my devotion, but you?  I _never_ thought I would have to explain myself to you.  Never thought you could be in any doubt about how I felt.  It appears I have been mistaken.’

    

I gaped like a cold fish on the mongers slab as realisation dawned.  I’d been utterly stupid to believe the worst.  Of course Reg stayed because he wanted to.  In the early years of our acquaintance many of my friends had tried to lure him away with higher wages and more holidays.  But my ever faithful gentleman’s personal gentlemen had stayed with his young master.  Because he loved me.

     And he was quite right to point out that we’d been together almost twenty years before Aunt Agatha passed on.  It had been rough for us both during the war years, being parted for long spells but we wrote every day and got together every chance we could.  When Aunt Agatha died Reg made sure to be there to support me.  Heaven knows how he did it but he did.

    

Reg turned and made for the door but I threw myself across the room in a rugby style tackle and clung on to him while I wept.

 

‘Oh my god, Reggie!  I’m so sorry. I’ve been so stupid.’  I buried my face in his chest and sobbed, more than relieved when he brought his arms up around my waist to hold me close.  I might still have a chance to mend the rift I had forged between us.

 

We stayed like that for a long time; me wrapped around my Reggie like a blanket and him just holding me.  No more words, just shared embrace, as we both calmed down.  I was exhausted by the events of the evening and eventually I fell asleep in his arms.  At some point he must have undressed me and put me to bed in the nursery, because that is where I woke the next morning.  As always he was standing at the side of the bed bearing a cup of tea and a slight smile.

 

     ‘Good Morning, Bertram.’ He said handing over the steaming cup.  ‘It looks to be a fine day with no clouds in the sky.’ 

 

He biffed over to the window and drew the curtains back to let the warm summer sun stream in.

 

     ‘Erm look about last night..’

 

I saw him pause for a moment but when he turned back to face me there was no hint on his face of what he was thinking.  His face was blank.

 

     ‘I just want to apologise again.’ I said.  ‘I was wrong to think so badly of you.  You who have only ever done your best for me, kept me safe, made me happy.  I love you Reg.  I really mean that.’

 

     ‘I know.’  There was a hint of stuffed frog about him as he continued.  ‘I too must apologise.  I should have told you about the money sooner.  I just didn’t want you to think that I would value anything over your happiness.  I would give my life for your Bertram.  I always will.’

 

 

A little while later, whilst I was in the bath as it happens, I was thinking again about reasons why Aunt Agatha would have done what she did.  It’s not that I don’t think the man deserves it.  God, he deserves more than the Bank of England keeps in their vaults just for putting up with me.  But Aunt A had always seemed so opposed to having the man in my life that it still didn’t seem to make any sense.  But then I had a flash of whatsit.  Like that Greek chappie had in the bath.

 

     ‘JEEVES!’  I yelled, leaping out of the tub, sloshing water all over the floor.  ‘JEEVES!  JEEEVVVEEESSS!’

 

     ‘Sir?’  The man in question came bursting in through the door, running, yes running into the room panic writ clear across his face. He was breathing hard, as if he had run the hundred yard dash in record time.

 

     ‘Jeeves!  I figured it out!’  I was grinning from ear to ear and leaping from foot to foot.

 

He regarded me with a wary eye as he tried to wrap my dancing body in a towel.  I dodged his grip and danced naked around the room, until I slipped on the puddle I had created as I shot out of the bath and Reg just about caught my fall.  I grabbed his face with both hands and gave him a loud wet smacker of a kiss.

    

‘Are you quite well, Bertram?’ He asked as I pulled back to grin at him some more. He must have thought I’d clouted my onion the way he was running his gentle hands over my head, likely checking for unforeseen lumps and bumps.

 

     ‘Never better old fruit.’  I kissed him again.  ‘You see I was laying in my bath contemp-whatsisitting the sitch when it all suddenly made sense.  Something Angela said last night about old Aunt A’s beazel flinging being an act.  Well, then I got to wondering if it might be true and then I solved the mystery.’

 

In the time it had taken for me to deliver this utterance, my man had wrapped me in a towel, drained the bath, escorted me to the bedroom and deposited me on the bed.  He turned away to start gathering the clothes he had already laid out when I grabbed his arm and made him stop.

 

     ‘Don’t you see Reggie?  Aunt A _knew_ about _us_.  She knew how cuckoo I was for you, and you for me, so she made a plan so we could stay together.’

 

     Reg just raised his eyebrow in a questioning sort of way and began trying to put my socks on my feet, but I waggled them out of reach.

 

     ‘Angela said Aunt A kicked up dust so we could hide in the cloud.  She knew she was dying, so she kicked up the biggest cloud she could and we’ve stayed hidden ever since.’

 

     A large Jeevesian hand rested upon my forehead, trying to check my temperature probably but I shook him off.  I grabbed his hands and brought them both to my chest.

 

     ‘Look, imagine young Mabel comes to you after dodging yet another engagement.’  I held up a hand to stop his protest.  ‘I know, I know she’s married but just pretend.  Well, she’s never really entertained much interest in young gents beyond a friendly what-ho!, but spends most of her time in the company of her ladies maid.  Mabel’s always raving about the qualities of said m. and she is the one Mabel always turns to for help or advice.  Even before her own flesh and blood.’

 

     ‘Yes?’ He said warily, as one might when Stiffy Pinker says she has a favour to ask.

 

     ‘Well then, here’s Mabel nearly forty, still unwed, yet happily living with her maid, has been for twenty years.  The maid keeps her well fed, well cared for, and you suspect she would do just about anything for your Niece.  After 20 or so failed attempts at matrimony few, if any, so called ‘decent’ chaps would even look at dear Mabel, despite the large amount of money she possessed.’

 

The glint in the man’s eye let me know he was following my train of thought.

 

     ‘Indeed.  I might begin to think my Niece’s eye alights on a more feminine taste, even though it is illegal and if caught the pair would be ruined.’

 

     ‘Exactly. But then the war comes along and the pair are forced apart by circumstance.  You can see that neither lady is their previous happy self, and you suspect, but cannot prove, this is not because of the whole allies versus Nazis wheeze.  What would you do?’  I said.

 

     ‘I would endeavour to devise a plan to ensure they could remain together if that is what they so wished.’

 

     ‘Yes, but it would need to be a cunning plan that would leave both parties above suspicion if anyone were to look.  Indeed you might decide to pay the young maid a large sum of money to remain with your niece, perhaps as a bequest in your will?  That way anyone who cared to look would see only a servant carrying out the terms of her contract, even if the maid doesn’t give two hoots about your money and only stays with your niece because she is in love with the woman she cares for.’

 

     ‘You mean…’

 

     ‘Yes!  Good old Aunt Agatha found a way for you to stay with me, without anyone suspecting us of anything other than being master and servant.  Reg, she really did care about me!’

 

I have never seen my dearest Reg grin so widely.  I actually feared he might split his face in two.  He kissed me, hard and deep, and I responded in kind.  After some minutes we broke apart.

 

     ‘Oh!  Your present!’  I shot up and began to rummage in my bedside drawer.  I had come back to our bedroom to take my bath as the tub in the nursery is too small for a full sized human.

 

My hand folded around a small velvet box and I pulled it out quickly, pressing into the hands of my beloved.

 

     ‘Go on Open it.’

 

Gingerly he lifted the lid to reveal the solid gold signet ring I had chosen on my last trip up to the city.

 

     ‘I couldn’t get you a proper one but I thought that this would look better on you than any diamond.  See it even had your initials on it, RJ.’

 

     ‘Oh Bertram.  It’s beautiful.  But I thought you said…’

 

     ‘My dear Reggie.  Haven’t you realised yet that my mind can be a fickle thing? Especially when it comes to the matter of matrimony? I changed my mind and I promise I own’t change it again.  I _do_ want to marry you.  As soon as it is allowed.  But for now let us enjoy our engagement.’

 

Both our hands were shaking when I slipped the ring onto his finger.

     ‘With this ring, I thee wed.’  I whispered against his lips.

 

It would be another forty years before I could say the words in public but to us that was the day I married my husband.

 

 

 

 

 

 

      

 

**Author's Note:**

> This story has been sitting on the computer for a little while. I had hoped to get it up for the 50th Anniversary but alas it was not to be.  
> Inspired by, of all things, a packet of skittles sweets (they did a special 'pride' edition) I wanted to explore a more serious Bertie, and what lengths he would go to for his 'man.'
> 
> There are more stories to come but I am heading off to another fandom for a bit so they will take some time for me to get written.
> 
> Enjoy and as ever, comments and feedback are gratefully received.


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